How to Be a Vampire: Renegade Creek
by SaintAugustana
Summary: Embry decides to sneak out of the house. Trouble ensues. Warnings for cp/spanking/corporal punishment of a minor.
1. The Plan

**Chapter 1 – The Plan**

On the first truly glorious day of the summer, Dimitri elected to keep me indoors.

I assured him I was perfectly fine, but my word was long past good enough. Instead of indulging my persistant thirst to frolick about our spread as I had been hankering to do ever since the weather had begun to clear, he set to minding the house until the babysitter arrived.

Before he left, he visited me in the loft. I sat upright under the covers, still in my pajamas, a worn paperback between my hands, smiling ruefully when he ascended. He felt my forehead.

"Still a bit warm."

I didn't bother protesting. This seemed to surprise him, but he did a good job holding it back. Little did he know I had already fashioned an escape plan. "You know I'll be gone for a few hours."

I nodded, playing up my drowsiness. Dimitri ofted saved his hunting excursions for dusk, but it was cloudy enough to allow him ample time and energy to feed in peace. That was all I knew. He never went into details, and I never asked.

He seemed shocked still at my persistant lack of argument, pausing a moment before he continued. "Don't give the babysitter any trouble."

"Yes, sir," I nodded a bit more vigorously.

"Alright," he reaffirmed, more for himself than for me. He kissed me on the forehead and stood. "Damien's been about the property this morning. He knows you're sick, but if he comes around wanting in, he's welcome."

I had counted on this. I smiled. His move.

Nodding once more, he descended the stairs. I went back to my book, but my eyes were still and my ears open for the sound of his italian leather shoes pacing evenly down the steps, crossing the landing, and halting at the threshold. Final instructions for Jessica I couldn't make out, and then, finally, the door shut with a definitive click.

I shot out of bed as quietly as I could, hurrying to my window and pressing my hands against it. Dimitri was three stories below, tossing some plastic bags into the back of the Porsche and disappearing inside the sleek red body, driving up the trail that disappeared behind the wrought iron gate and and wound through the forest ten miles into town.

A knock on the glass gave me a fright. I peered through and quickly unlatched it, grabbing a handful of Damien's t-shirt to help haul him inside. He straightened up in a stretch, shaking like a dog and pulling bits of ivy out of his tousled mop.

"Are you crazy? He could have seen you!"

He shot me a look. "Had to cover myself in those vines until he was gone."

"How long have you been there?"

"Saw him come up. You sure didn't take long talkin.'"

"I think he's starting to trust me."

"Fright'nin."

Damien was something of a quiet wonder. He was perpetually dirty, parts of his face always caked in sand, fingers bleeding and brown with earthy clay. All I really knew about him was that he was the son of a servant family that attended one of the other manors on the lake. He liked to come around when I was doing chores and piddle around in the patches of grass had given up growing some years ago. Just by looking at him - all soft, tanned flesh the color of teacakes stretched over the skeleton of a boy - you'd know he could not be older than I, but there was something old in his murky green eyes, between the flecks of blackened dirt that made his pupils appear as though they were constantly fragmenting. They reflected a kind of sorrow for himself, the way a wild thing looks when all the wild has been tamed right out of it. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more he reminded me of Dimitri, or how I imagined Dimitri to be as a child.

The closer to fresh earth he was the more jovial he seemed, but indoors he was like a ghost. It wasn't that he seemed always to be in some sort of trance, only that he was alone on every occasion I happened to glance at him across yard, at bedtime when he stayed the night, at the end of the table during supper. He didn't go to school. At least, not with me.

Anyway, the plan went as follows: Damien left once more to fetch a mutual friend of ours from a neighboring farm. His name was Claudius, and I had known him from school. He didn't know I was sick but for half my trading card collection and ten dollars I'd saved he agreed to play my decoy while Damien and I went for a swim in the creek. We'd worked it out to be back long before Dimitri returned. I doubted if Jessica, my babysitter, would catch on in time, but as a backup plan I'd set up a blazing streak of good behavior, more to earn Dimitri's trust than hers.

Part of me felt sorry for taking advantage of her, but the bigger part knew no one would be the wiser. The plan was sure fire, but no sooner than Damien and I had packed a small back of supplies for the hike than my cough started up again.

"Are you sure you are okay?" He stopped me just as we were clambering out the window. Claudius was tucked beneath my covers in my little bed on the other side of the room.

"I'm fine. It's just a cough."

He looked skeptical. "Maybe we shouldn't..."

"What? We're not going to get caught."

"It's not that. What if you get more sick?"

I waved him off. "I won't. Come on, I'm dying for a swim."

He sighed, looking around as though we ought to stay.

We went.

We splashed and our laughter reached flocks of birds unsettled from the treetops. They fluttered away in formation, leaving openings in the canopy for the sunlight to stream over the creek and dapple our bare torsos with its rays. We were without shame there – neither of us had hit puberty yet. The water was cool and pleasant, the dirt soft and warm. We did laps for a while, diving in and out from the pointed rock that jutted out above the deepest part. As the afternoon waned, Damien set to work contructing a couple of fishing rods from twine and our walking sticks and came to rest on the rock, dangling his line in as I waded in the shallows, perusing for freshwater shells. I pushed a couple choice ones into the pocket of my cut-off trousers and sat down in the water.

"It's gettin' late," Damien pointed out. I scowled, but he was right. The sunlight had gone without notice of farewell. Thankfully, the clouds that had covered the sky the past few weeks had faded, as well, leaving it clear and unmarked. I loved the rain, but I could only take so much. Unfortunately, the arrival of the sun meant a speedier return trip for Dimitri.

I began to stand when my cough returned. Easy, at first, but then strong and harsh. Damien began to rise with a start, ready to come to my aide when it suddenly subsided.

"Are you alright?" he called down.

Unable to speak, but not wanting to worry him, I nodded, clearing my throat. It was very quiet, all of a sudden. No birds, even the sound of the creek flowing was muted. I fingered my ear but it was free of water. I glanced down with a peculiar look, but nothing seemed abnormal. It was just quiet. Like my ears were full of cotton.

When I looked up, Damien's mouth was moving, but no sound came out. He gestured wildly behind him, motioning for me to get out of the water. I followed his outstretched hand to the wall of cascading white water heading straight for me.


	2. Fever

**Chapter 2 - Fever**

"Hold on!" He shouted. "I'm going to get help!"

All our belongings gone, he took off running shirtless and barefooted through the dense woods.

I don't know how long I held there, clinging desperately to that hunk of evaporating log, but it seemed an eternity. I felt the resolve of my strength slipping with the setting sun. I knew how long it would take my friend to run back to our ranch, even on his fastest feet, and it was at least an hour there and back, not to forget adding the distance I was washed downstream and the time it will take to find me again.

I do not remember letting go, only that it was probably against my better judgment.

When I awoke, everything was reminiscent of a bad dream, and I was home in bed with Dimitri leaning over me.

I was in and out of delirium for days, they said. I caught slivers of conversations. Damien confessing. Pneumonia.

Fever dreams.

Fever dreams.

Chills. Burning heat.

I slipped back into consciousness sometime the next week. I laid facedown on my bed and upon rousing from my deepest slumber I inhaled deeply and felt a warm hand upon my back, rubbing gentle circles.

I regained my strength bit by bit. Dr. Warwick, an old friend of Dimitri's was in and out constantly every other day. The medicine came and I was set to a regular dosage. Damien remained a constant companion, but stayed clear of my bedside as though under strict orders to leave me alone. I was still a bit foggy, but it didn't take a genius to see he had been having trouble sitting. I hoped it was his own father that did it and not Dimitri.

One evening, after the doc left and Damien went home, I asked Dimitri about it. Thus far, we hadn't talked about my escapade. Had he forgotten? Of course not. Perhaps he was going to let me off because I was sick.

"Oh, no," he couldn't help the humour seeping into his tone. "I'll not lay a hand on you in the state you're in, but believe me, little girl, you've got a licking coming to you when you're healed."

I wanted to cry, but first things first. "Did you have to punish Damien? It was my idea."

"He was just as much a part of it as you. He knew better than to be down there without my permission and he certainly knew better than to take a sick person along. But I never put a hand on that boy. I can't speak for his parents."

I scowled. "Damien's not my keeper."

"Now, but with your demeanor I ought to hire one. And I don't mean a babysitter. Something more permanent."

Couldn't argue there, though I wasn't sure what that meant just yet.

"But, but..."

"Don't you start with that histrionic nonsense again," Dimitri warned as we pulled into the driveway. I had gotten to feeling well enough to be taken to the doctor's office, a decision I was regretting at the moment. "Dr. Warwick says your lungs are clear and now you're going to get your comuppance. Upstairs."

I went, growing anxious. I couldn't help it. I wanted to take my smacking like a man but I just couldn't. Just the thought of it was making me teary. Sometimes it was hard for me to remember that we lived in the 21st century, what with the way Dimitri ran things. The Manor was old, sure, and I enjoyed my renegade trips to the creek, and we didn't have a television, but this was barbaric!

I didn't have time to protest when he came up the stairs, took me by the collar, dragged me over to the bed, and began to haul me over his lap. I struggled, noticing the switch lying near his side. "No, no!"

He pulled me up to face him, holding me tight. "Now, listen, Embry, you earned this and you're going to get it whether you like it not."

"Not a switch, Dimitri, please!" I pled, stamping my foot in teary-eyed frustration.

He was obviously done arguing, and I couldn't stall him anymore. He yanked me down. As per usual, I wrapped my arms helplessly around his thigh and held on for dear life. He began to swat me with his hand hard and quick. I cried quietly, knowing the worst was to come.

"Give me your hands."

I sniffed, pulling them out from relative comfort and placing them behind my back. He held them fast and raised the switch.

Before I could react the first lick smacked down followed by others in quick succession. I howled and cried and I'm that if anybody were outside the house they'd be able to hear me. Before long, it was over and he pulled me to my feet. I made a feeble attempt to stifle my crying, as he sat there, watching me try to compose myself. My tears had ceased but the sad, pathetic heaves choked me and snot clogged my nose. When my eyes were no longer completely bleary with tears I scrubbed at my cheeks with my palms and rubbed my backside. My thin pants had provided little protection. This was the third time I had been switched. Dimitri wasn't a tyrant, but he tolerated little and made it known.

"Pull yourself together. I expect you downstairs in five minutes to state your apology to Jessica for taking advantage of her the way you did."

"She's still here?" I blurted. She would have heard everything!

Maybe he was a tyrant, and harsh, but never cold. He wasn't one for being warm and fuzzy, but always held me and loved me in his own way. Not this time. He just walked out on me. Maybe I had gotten all the love I was going to get while I was sick in bed and this was part of my punishment.


	3. Guilt

**Chapter 3 - Guilt**

Night falls quickly in the woods. I amused myself with my blocks for a while but after a while the restlessness became too much and I readied myself for bed, placing my dirty clothes neatly in the basket by the door, changing into a clean nightshirt, and brushing my unruly mop of hair. I sidled to my bed and, feeling lost, sat down upon the thin mattress and stared out the window to watch the sunlight fade from the land, my hands toying absentmindedly with a metal soldier. I thought about Damien.

I sighed. He was better at a lot of things than me, knowing the way things worked out there, in the trees and the water. His gut had never been wrong before so I don't know why I didn't trust it when I dragged him to the creek.

It wasn't fear I felt, not from Dimitri and not from almost drowning. It was guilt. Guilt that my quiet friend had taken part of the blame for my actions and hadn't issued one complaint, guilt that I had made Dimitri mad at me after so long having been on his good side. Things had been going so well – I finished out the school year with flying colors and summer was only a couple weeks in when I got sick.

Only he wasn't supposed to still be mad at me. Why was he still mad at me? It was always so that after he'd laid into me he dropped it and let me do the same. Tighter leash, maybe, but never shorter. He was never short with me.

I stood, dropping the soldier, and suddenly angry, swiped a hand across the surface of my nightstand. My collection of the tiny metal men went flying, clattering pell-mell over the hardwood floor of the attic.

My anger disippated almost as quickly as it had come. I had no right to be angry, but I was. My line of thought followed such – if he was angry at me and I didn't know why or what I could do to change it, why try? As far as I could see, he wasn't angry with Damien.

This was a new sensation for me. I had never bad a green-eyed monster before, and certainly not for Damien. Never been jealous of him for any reason. He didn't have anything I wanted and never asked for anything in return.

Maybe my antics were tiring Dimitri. Maybe he preferred Damien over me.

I used a pillow to muffle my frustrated scream and stomped to the window, grabbing the latch and yanking it upward and open, plopping down on the sill with a huff and hanging my bare legs out over the side of the house.

Had I made another inkling of noise, or had the clasps of the windowpane been less oiled, I would have startled the silhouettes below. I hadn't noticed them for a moment, Dimitri illuminated by the open front door, and Damien standing on the gravel path. I held my breath and retracted my legs, sliding to my belly and peeking out. Much to my dismay I couldn't make out their words, but I even in the dark I could see Dimitri grab my friend's arm and give him a firm shake. Damien didn't struggle, and for a moment, dual expressions of protectiveness and relief swarmed me, but then, Warden pulled him close, hugging him into his chest and stroking his hair. Damien's dark shadow disappeared and Dimitri's came inside.

Oh, shoot.

Quick as a whip I scrambled to my feet and shut the window, gathering my soldiers up into my nightshirt and dumping them into the drawer of my nightstand. I had just done this when the trapdoor opened and Dimitri emerged.

My expression quickly soured and I gripped the post of my bed, eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and dislike.

Warden noticed my change in demeanor and spoke first. "Bedtime."

"What was Damien doing here?"

Dimitri's eyes glinted as he registered the snappy undercurrent in my tone. "As a matter of fact he came to apologize for what he did."

"You're not mad at him?"

"Of course not."

"I apologized! Why are you mad at me, still?"

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady."

I stood my ground, harder gripping my bedpost, and stuck out my tongue.

In short, I ended up dragged unceremoniously down the narrow staircase. When we emerged on the landing he grabbed me round the collar and pulled me into the parlor, bending me over the teal chaise and pinning me there while I struggled. I waited, but he didn't hit me. My arms regained control of themselves and I pulled them up under my head, trying to rise, but he kept his hand in the small of my back, effectively immobilizing me.

"Just do it so I can go to bed!"

"You're feeling pretty comfortable with giving orders, it seems. Rightly so, as it also seems you know more than the doctor and myself."

I quit struggling. Okay, okay, I get it.

"And Damien."

Okay, I lost it. I snarled, resuming my struggling and kicking him in the shin. It had been a long time since we'd fought this way. I was having flashbacks to the day he captured me. He swore but caught me before I made it out of the room, tugging my ear painfully, pulling me forward.

"He didn't try to stop me!" I shouted. "He went, too! Why aren't you mad at him?"

He didn't answer right away, and although looking back on it I'm grateful he weighed his words carefully, my burning ear protested otherwise. The pain brought tears to my eyes even after he'd let go, but it was due to the pain of the guilt that they stayed. I collapsed into a chair, drawing my knees to my chest and crying into them, my hands cupped over my afflicted ear.

Dimitri sighed and paced to my retreat, gently pushing my hands away and rubbing the side of my head. Using his foot he pulled up an ottoman and took a seat directly across from me.

"Look at me," he whispered. I did my best to ignore him, but he persisted. "Look at me, Em." More firmly this time, lifting my chin.

"One, because instead of wallowing in his guilt he admitted his mistake and asked for forgiveness."

My crying had mostly subsided. I listened, swallowing back bile.

"Two, because worse than risking a friend's safety for a swim, you risked your own. You put your own life in danger and in addition to being ill you almost drowned. Do you know why I kept you in that day?"

I sniffed. "Because I was sick."

"You were recovering. I kept you in because there had been a flash flood warning."

I thought a moment. "You knew about the flood?"

"That, and I knew I couldn't trust you when I was in town so I called the babysitter, but you manipulated her as well, tying your friends up in your web of trouble. And now your guilt is consuming you for it."

It was true, and with no way to deny it, I buried my face in my knees and my crying resumed. Helpless, I allowed Dimitri to pull me into his lap and hold me close, rocking me.

"All you had to do was stay in bed," he murmured.


	4. Atonement

**Chapter 4 - Atonement**

When I awoke, I was alone in Dimitri's bed, and the smell of eggs and sound of bacon sizzling wafted in through the door, left intentionally ajar to rouse me for breakfast. I rose, blearily blinking back the sleep caked on my eyelids, and paced through the hallway into the kitchen. Dimitri leant against the counter swirling a mug of something steamy in his hand, addressing me with a nod. "Get dressed, breakfast is almost ready."

I hoped Damien wasn't around, my only true friend I had so wrongfully wronged. I took my time clambering up the steps into my room.

All was still and quiet. I hauled myself up and glanced around. Sunlight streamed into the window. The bed was made, my train pushed graciously aside to a corner of the room, and my toy soldiers arranged in a line upon my nightstand. Yes, he had been here. Trying not to feel further sick with my mistreatment of him, I tugged my nightshirt over my headand shuffled around the drawer for fresh clothes. I settled on my favorite blue jumper and brown cargo shorts. The air in the house was a mite chill.

Deeper in the drawer I found my orange handkerchief and tied it around my neck. Tight leash still applied. I didn't plan on doing much today in the way of fun stuff – Dimitri would be home and I'm sure he would put me to work as part of my punishment.

I wasn't overwhelmingly consumed with guilt anymore, but something still lingered. I headed downstairs.

My plate was waiting for me. I sat playing with my fork, glancing dolefully up at the Warden. He sipped his dark drink and gave as much of an encouraging grin as someone like him could muster and I returned it, beginning to eat.

"Where's Damien?" I asked around a mouthful of egg.

"Swallow," he ordered gingerly, rinsing his mug in the basin. "He came by with his parents earlier. They were on their way to town."

I swallowed. "Why didn't he stay?"

"Suppose he wanted to give you some privacy."

There was that word again. "Why?"

"Well, call me old-fashioned, but I think we've got some things to talk about."

I swallowed again. "What?" I inquired timidly.

"For starters," he sat down opposite me. I straightened up a bit. "Your rendevouz to the creek is over and done with, and after the _discussion _we had," he eyed me to make sure I was listening, "I don't think we need to address it or will need to address it again. Clear?"

Funny how Dimitri's questions always turned into orders. "Yes, sir."

"Today we're going to deal with your blatant rudeness, that runaway mouth of yours, and the little tantrum you threw last night. Finish your breakfast."

There it was. The demeanor shift. "Can we get it over with first?" I asked this knowing I would rather eat _after _he was through with me. I knew the punishment for a 'runaway mouth.'

He gave me a stern look. I returned to my food.

After I finished, taking as long as I could, I found myself in my room.

Warden was done talking, but the temper was gone, and for that I was at least moderately grateful. He pulled me forward by the arm, leading me over the old washbasin that had been there since the house was built. Dimitri liked that old-fashioned way of living, mostly as it kept him under the radar, but also I think because it reminded him of being a boy and growing up in a manor house something like this one.

Dimitri leaned over and retrieved my toy submarine from the shallow porcelain bowl. I shivered. He gripped the back of my neck and used his free hand to lather the bar of soap.

"Lean over." He stood behind me and pushed me down over the water. He filled a tin cup with water. "Open."

I exhaled through my nose, hesistating.

"You could always take the smacking first."

I gave a low whimper.

"Verbal answer, please."

I opened my mouth to respond but he'd tricked me, and took the opportunity to shove the bar in. I gagged, and he pinched the end, holding it in. Five minutes. No more, no less. I don't know how he timed it, always timed it perfectly. I tried singing a song in my head but my sinuses burned and my tongue became coated with the frothy junk and all the tunes got mixed up in my head until I'd forgotten if I was at one minute or four.

And then, of course, it ended quick. He pulled it out and I spit out a wad of pink foam, taking a drink from the proferred cup and scraping my tongue with my teeth before spitting that out, as well.

Dimitri dampened a washcloth and scrubbed my face, wiping off the salty tears and lather. I shook violently. He pulled me up by the collar and I rubbed the rest of the burn from my eyes. As he pulled me over his lap I found the part of me that usually put up a fight was much subdued, as though it knew it would only take longer if that was the case.

So I sniffed back my distress and clenched my eyes tight against the first smack, doing my best to retain my composure as more tears threatened to fall on account of the terrible sting. I hadn't been spanked a lot, but enough times to be considered a repeat offender. Not that I was a devilish child by nature, just michievious and impulsive. And he'd only switched me three times. He didn't like it, I don't think. Not that I cared much for it, either.

I whimpered and squirmed involuntarily but he wasn't about to indulge me. The swats continued hard and sharp until I was crying quietly into Dimitri's arm. When he finally stopped, my backside burned like hellfire, stinging like the dickens. I groaned, trying to rise and failing miserably. Using his strong left arm, he reached beneath my chest and pulled me up. I sniffed, trying to stifle my hitching breaths. Spankings always brought me to tears.

"Now, it's over," he held me firm, making sure I listened. "No more wallowing in this perpetual guilt. It's making you and everybody downright miserable, and I won't have it. Understand?"

I swallowed, hesistating one moment too long.

"Let me make this clearer. If I catch you so much as feeling sorry for yourself..."

"I understand," I nodded quickly.

He cocked his head. "Do you? What is it you understand?"

I inhaled, licking my lips and swiping my hand over my face. "Not to feel sorry for myself."

"Why?" he encouraged firmly.

I hesistated once more. He pulled me close. "Never feel sorry for yourself. Ever."

It was my turn to ask why.

"Sorry is a selfish thing, to see the value of a lesson and then discard it to wallow in guilt. Guilt is the path of the unwise, the path that leads to fear of those things we feel sorry for: other people, bad things, events you can't change."

"Damien is wise," I said. "He's not afraid, he never cries or anything."

"Crying is not the same as fear. Why are you crying now?"

"M'not," I muttered.

He yanked me down and smacked me hard across the backside. I cried out.

"Because it hurts!" I protested, tears springing anew.

"Not because you're afraid of me?"

"No..."

"Yes, Damien is wise. But he is also sad and lonely."

"He has me," I offered.

"Last night you seemed ready to turn on him."

I hung my head.

"He will forgive you."

I looked up. Dimitri was smiling that faint smile that was hardly a smile at all, but it was enough. He pulled me into his chest and I hugged him. Yes, I would make it up to Damien. I was wiser, too.


End file.
